


Find You

by pansyshmansy



Category: Find You - Monsta X (Music Video), Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Depression, Minor Character Death, nothing is gory or detailed but just in case i'll tag it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:28:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25005418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pansyshmansy/pseuds/pansyshmansy
Summary: "His family, his brothers, were going to be by his side until the end of time. Probably. Hyungwon wasn’t big into dramatics, but the end of time felt like the correct way to phrase it. Looking around at all seven of them sprawled on the floor and the sofa, eating the greasiest pizza and teasing each other, he knew that, somehow, they’d be okay."
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	Find You

**Author's Note:**

> this is literally just me trying to make prose out of the find you mv, but it was a labor of love so enjoy

Everything hurt. The car was mangled, but that was an understatement. Glass was littered everywhere, its small tinkling sounding far too loud and yet terribly distant. The roof caved in some areas, mostly holding up in others. The seatbelt was jammed in place and tugging against the latch only seemed to make its stubborn attachment worse. There was a ringing that bounced around the cabin of the car, getting louder and louder and louder. Breathing hurt, moving hurt, but staying in the car was too much, too loud. By whatever luck the door handle remained free, though the collision crumpled the metal on the exterior. Outside of the car, on the pavement, on the strewn glass, the ringing only got worse. The car was making some sort of hissing sound, but it wasn’t that—that was only as deafening as the glass had been. No, this ringing was something else and it was too much to handle coupled with the all the hurt. At least the hard pavement stopped the world from spinning.

The sky looked pretty tonight. Had it always been this pretty? There seemed to be more stars than normal, twinkling away high above the trees. If only the ringing would stop, the sky would be prettier if the all noise would just stop. Had breathing always been this hard? Must be the fine dust, the lack of a facemask, the incessant ringing. It must be late, too, what with all these stars and the chill in the air, the overwhelming drowsiness. Just breathe, the ringing will stop eventually, sleep it off. It’ll be okay.

Lights flashed pulling in Hyungwon’s focus to the game beside him. The screen on the old arcade cabinet played a celebratory animated sequence, and Kihyun threw his arms up in surprised victory. Kihyun? Yoo Kihyun? There was a beat before all of the men cheered for his win. A long time coming, Hoseok mused to mostly himself. Though the loser, Minhyuk couldn’t help but celebrate alongside his friends. There was no way Kihyun would keep his winning streak, anyway. He could have this celebration.

At some point the night had gotten colder, the men clad only in sweaters, but no one seemed to mind. The small arcade was warm enough for them, what with the whirring machines and the buzzing ceiling lights. They were familiar enough with the owner to not be self-conscious of their volume; they had been regulars for years and, fortunately or not, hardly anyone visited for any long length of time like they tended to when they came. Glancing around, Hyungwon noted the owner smiling to himself as he went about wiping down a machine on the other end of the arcade. Even he was privy to Kihyun’s less than stellar record yet fierce determination to win.

With goodbyes said between peals of laughter, the friends were out and walking the short distance to the karaoke bar just a few hundred meters down from the arcade. Time passed them by in smiles and laughter and tiny laser light shows. Hyunwoo had already done a rendition or two or seven of exclusively trot songs, complete with a cheap fluorescent wig and feather boa. While his scores stayed steadily in the 80s, the others were half convinced he could start a semi-lucrative career as a new-age trot star. Jooheon and Changkyun came out exactly one time to duet an old 90s hip-hop song, scoring a perfect 100, before proclaiming their retirement from the industry. Minhyuk, at some point, pulled Hyungwon into a selfie during an overly serious ballad performance to send to his mom to prove they were being safe and staying warm. Hyungwon didn’t mind, having somehow become the favorite of all their mothers. If he was with their sons, they trusted that everything would be alright.

Before anyone knew what was going on, Kihyun had keyed in a song. The opening bass-boosted siren wails letting everyone know this was the traditional Kihyun idol group performance, complete with clumsy choreography and intense vocals saved just for this moment. No matter how many times they’d seen him bumble his way through dance-heavy pop songs they always ended up wheezing on the floor, bellies aching from laughing too hard for too long, and tears sliding down their faces. It was a crowd favorite that everyone looked forward to, but especially tonight with Kihyun buzzing from his arcade win just hours before. Hoseok, co-conspirator of this night’s special performance, tried hard to keep his giggles steady enough to be able to change the multi-colored lighting to match the song. Hyungwon had collapsed against Minhyuk ten seconds into the song, jostling Minhyuk’s camera arm as he recorded their friend’s award-winning performance for blackmail later. Jooheon had grabbed the extra mic halfway through to begin his side job as a semi-professional hype man which only served to send everyone into bigger fits of laughter. When the song came to a close with all of their heavy breathing filling the room, Hyunwoo, wiping a tear away, suggested a group picture to commemorate another stellar Kihyun concert. A family portrait, Hoseok called it, getting a halfhearted groan of protest from Minhyuk for the cheesiness that seemed to always drip off the older man. Kihyun scored a sad 55, but they were all quick to say the mics were broken anyway.

The group had barely started their walk back to the apartment building where Hyunwoo and Hoseok lived before a car Hyungwon easily knew to be belonging to his parents pulled up alongside them. His mom was quick to roll down the window and beam at the friends. The original plan was to have one of the guys drive him home, but this worked out just fine as well. It was too cold to comfortably continue this walk anyhow. Hyungwon’s dad leaned over his wife’s seat to wave at everyone as the boys quickly righted their postures and politely greeted them. Hyungwon snickered, watching Kihyun release the balled-up fist he was going to drive into Minhyuk’s shoulder. The older they got the less the polite boy persona worked on his parents, but he’d let Kihyun figure out that one on his own.

Ushered into the backseat, Hyungwon found himself telling his parents about all the dumb things his friends did that night, getting Minhyuk to send him the video he took of Kihyun’s idol alter ego. By the way his parents were laughing and smiling, he took that to mean the business dinner they were at went well. More than well if the crow’s feet at his father’s eyes had anything to say about it. Hyungwon had no idea what business could be discussed about his father’s work, but he knew whatever it was had kept the older man in his office all day for months now. If he were being honest with himself, Hyungwon knew very little about what his father did. He knew he was an engineer, he knew the company his dad was part of was relatively small but somehow incredibly rich and well-funded, and he knew his dad could build a watch from scratch while reciting theoretical physics to him. When he was much younger, Hyungwon was often in his father’s office watching him work before he’d inevitably fall asleep in a chair. It used to endear his father, that little Hyungwon liked being around him enough to tolerate discussions about the inconsistencies of time—the little boy had no interest in watches and physics that’s for sure.

His mom was almost fully turned to face him in the backseat as he replayed the video of Kihyun for the sixth time. His shoulders were starting to get sore from how long he’d been hunched forward showing the video to her, but he’d missed these carefree moments they used to have together. She worked at the same company as his father, that’s where they met actually, but her work dealt mostly in organizational psychology and “bureaucratic nonsense” as she called it. She got to clock out when she left her company office, but his dad was often working at home into the late hours when there was an important project. And Hyungwon’s grad school was another force to be reckoned with—it wasn’t even the coursework that made it difficult, rather the looming pressure of finding something he wanted to dedicate a thesis to. Suffice it to say things had been stressful in his house for a while, their smiles and gentle laughter were something he wanted to lavish in even if just a short while.

And then the crash happened.

He heard it before he knew what was happening. Headlights coming their way and horns blaring and glass crunching under the weight of the force. His mother screamed and he wished he’d never have to hear that sound come from her again. His father had the steering wheel in a death grip, knuckles going white. The car rolled, he thinks, if the seatbelt cutting into his shoulder was any proof. His phone flew somewhere, out of his hands, out of the car, somewhere. One of the rolls had his head slamming against the driver’s seat and everything went fuzzy after that. Hyungwon had his eyes screwed shut, whether to protect from the flying glass or from seeing his parents in pain he didn’t know. The car stopped tumbling, settling with a jolt half on the paved road and half on the grassy shoulder. The car horn continued to blare. With unfocused vision, Hyungwon took note of his dad draped over the steering wheel and his mom against the dashboard. The next thing he knew he was flopping onto the road with labored breaths. For the first time in a long time his dad looked peaceful. Hyungwon hoped he looked peaceful, too.

Hands were tugging on his body, picking him up and wheeling him into the most sterile smelling vehicle he’d ever been in. Distantly he knew this was help, but his thoughts weren’t connecting fast enough for him to make out exactly what was happening. Far away voices were talking to him. He couldn’t understand them regardless of how hard he tried. It was like he was a fish underwater, the sounds muffled and distorted and complete gibberish. With each blink his scenery seemed to change. _Blink_. Night sky. _Blink_. Metal roof. _Blink_. Blinding lights.

Closing his eyes against the light, Hyungwon thought of his friends. Had they gotten home? Had they had fun? Were they thinking about him? Were they safe? More than anything he wanted them to be safe and happy like they deserved. Jooheon had finally finished his apprenticeship at the tattoo shop, and Changkyun was looking forward to completing his biochemistry degree. Minhyuk had finalized the details for the biggest event he had ever been hired to plan earlier that week, and Kihyun had just earned the principal pianist position for the symphony he had been working in since the beginning of his university career. Hyunwoo and Hoseok were recently officially named kendo instructors at the dojo they’d been attending since they were kids. Tonight had been a night of celebration. He hoped they were still celebrating. He hoped, well, he hoped for a lot of things.

When he opened his eyes again the soft morning sunlight greeted him. He knew he was in a hospital room, could hear the heart monitor next to his head and the shuffling of feet against linoleum. He saw Minhyuk’s concerned, tired face before anything else. Both seats in the room were taken by his friends, the others standing anxiously around the bed. Where were his parents? They should be in those seats. They should be here holding his bruised hands. They should be the ones with concerned, tired faces. Through the haze of pain medication, Hyungwon sat up. He felt a hand on his shoulder briefly before he was swinging his legs heavily over the edge of his bed and fumbling out of the door. He didn’t have time to wonder where the nurse’s station was, coming face to face with two police officers. They looked just as dour as his friends.

“Chae Hyungwon?” The taller man asked. Stiffly, he nodded. “We’re so sorry to have to tell you this, but your parents didn’t survive through the crash.” And it was like all the air in the world suddenly vanished. Each officer said a few more words before turning and leaving him in the hallway alone.

The metal bench along the wall caught him as he felt his legs give out. Alone. He’d have to get used to that now. His lungs burned as he choked on a sob. He was sure he was breathing, the echo of each ragged inhale making its way to his ears, but his chest ached with a weight he didn’t know how to place. Loss, he supposes, grief, surprise, guilt, fear, disbelief. All of it, all at once, crushing against him in his polyester hospital pajamas on a surgical-grade metal bench as cold and as hard as everything felt. His crying didn’t stop, couldn’t stop. How can it ever stop? He was supposed to watch his parents steadily grow older and weaker, with a love between them as strong and as youthful as when they’d gotten married. He was supposed to calmly, stoically, have talks with his father about what to do with their belongings when it came time to retire and downsize. He was supposed to ask his mother how to braid his daughter’s hair the fastest way in the mornings when they were running late. He was supposed to do so many things, a lifetime of things, with them. But they were gone. They were dead and gone and wouldn’t—couldn’t—come back. And Hyungwon was alone now. So, he cried, and he didn’t stop himself from crying as visitors and nurses and doctors and patients passed him. And he didn’t swipe at his face to clear away the tears and the snot so people wouldn’t be so put off from what the ugly truth of misery looks like.

He sat and he cried, and in the hospital room that Hyungwon walked out of his friends sat and listened. What else could they do? None of them had the slightest idea how to handle grief like this, trauma that they knew a hug couldn’t fix. Whether they had admitted it to themselves or not, the six men knew something wrong had happened for Hyungwon’s parents not to be with them in his room. The friends hadn’t spoken much in the nearly thirty-four hours he was asleep, save for the occasional offer of a coffee or water or food run one of them would inevitably have to make. They knew. Somewhere inside each of them they knew. The doctors couldn’t tell them what happened, but Changkyun had kept track of the two officers that stayed permanently across the hallway, rotating out every eight hours. You don’t leave officers for people who are alive.

Minhyuk had started absentmindedly tracing patterns on someone’s hand again. It had been Hyungwon’s hand the past day and half, but as the friends sat silently around the hospital bed Minhyuk started in again. Another sob echoed down the hall and Hoseok flinched. How many tears can one man cry? How many tears are allotted for each parent? Does that get multiplied by how many years you spend with them? If he cries too little, too much, would they think of him differently? Does crying take away the hurt? Will he trap the hurt inside if he stops crying? Kihyun didn’t know how to answer any of these. Kihyun never really, truly had to think about death like this. Kihyun could ask himself a thousand questions, all circling around each other without any hope of answering, but instead Kihyun would much rather just let Minhyuk draw consecutive circles across his palm and not think about how often these hallways must hear people like Hyungwon.

Eventually, Hyungwon fell asleep, curled up against the wall on the bench. Hyunwoo was first to move, leaving the room to pick up the tall man and bring him back to bed. The moment he’d laid him down, Hyunwoo was walking calmly out of the room and down the hall. He was gone for a while, but once he returned the men noted the redness rimming his eyes. Hoseok helped situate Hyungwon on the bed before Jooheon cleaned off his face with a damp towel. Occasionally, his own tears would land against Hyungwon’s skin, lengthening the time it took him to finish.

“He’s gonna be okay, right?” Changkyun’s voice was quiet, barely above a whisper.

“He’s strong, he’ll get through this.” Kihyun was curt, but what else was there to say? Changkyun opened his mouth to respond, to ask if they were going to be okay, but shut it instead.

He was released from the hospital with a list of prescriptions he was advised to take. The pain medication was for when he needed it, but the anti-depressants were an every morning deal. A doctor—or nurse, he couldn’t remember—had given him the number to a few grief counselor’s he could talk to, but he knew he wasn’t going to. Talking in general felt tiring, but talking to a stranger about a hurt so deep he could hardly understand it seemed exhausting. That was the problem, though; everything felt tiring. He hardly was aware of time passing anymore. He existed as a ghost in his own home as day turned to night and night to day.

The house his family had lived in since Hyungwon was young was big. Much bigger than a three-person family required, but it was home. One remodel when he was a young teen made the house stark white and minimalist in nearly all the design. While it was fun and modern to look like an Ikea catalogue when he was growing up, everything just looked like an empty hospital room now, quiet and sterile. Hyungwon, in the time since he had been home, had become more than welcoming to the odd number of clocks his parents kept on the walls. The rhythmic tick tock of their hands around their faces kept him from feeling sluggish, something he could count his movements by.

The box he was given of his parents’ belongings hadn’t been touched since he set it down on the kitchen counter when Hyunwoo dropped him off. He didn’t want to see crumpled phones and mangled watches. He didn’t want to open their wallets and find old pictures of himself during his first day of little league baseball. But he did. What else can he do when the memories of them already felt fleeting? When tears felt close to spilling over, Hyungwon put the box back down gently, downed his pain meds and decided early evening was a good enough time for bed.

In the morning he dutifully took his medication and was just finishing his glass of water when the doorbell rang. He knew people would eventually come around to kick off the condolences parade, he just hadn’t expected it to come so soon. Quite honestly, he didn’t know how long it had been since the accident—it wasn’t something he was quick to mark on the calendars and start counting off the days to the anniversary. Did he even have a calendar?

“Hey, asshole! It’s been three days since we saw you, open up!” Who needs a calendar when Lee Minhyuk can pettily count the hours for you? His friends were piled on top of each other at the door like some opening credit to a 90s sitcom. Begrudgingly, he unlocked the door for them.

Minhyuk was the first in, a put-upon look gracing his face at how long it took their lanky friend to make it to the door. It wasn’t even a far walk; they could clearly see him in the kitchen. Sure, he wasn’t expecting them, but as his best friends they reserved the right to turn up midmorning unannounced for a good old-fashioned sleepover. Like polite children, the men walked single file through the door, patting his shoulder and piling their overnight bags beside the sofa. A small smile settled on Hyungwon’s face as he took in the pillows and blankets stacked on the sofa as the men made themselves comfortable. He definitely didn’t have enough floor mats for them, and they’d have to fight to see who got to sleep on the sofa, but the sights and sounds of people making his home feel like a home again was something he didn’t know he was needing.

“Alright, jerk, you’ve kept to yourself long enough. We’ve already ordered pizza and Changkyun even agreed to getting us trashy snacks from the convenience store,” Changkyun, notably, did not look like he had agreed to that. “We’re staying, and you can’t say no.” Kihyun looked smug as he crossed his arms and leaned back into the sofa. He knew Kihyun was right, but it still didn’t feel good that he was agreeing to such a smug proposal. Jooheon seemed to relax further when he saw Hyungwon’s small nod.

Like Minhyuk had predicted at the arcade, Kihyun couldn’t keep his winning streak. In fact, the smaller man was more often than not one of the first players out each round of each game they played. The man of the hour declined to play knowing that adjusting to his anti-depressants left him a little spacey. Fine motor control wasn’t in the cards for the night, but that was alright with him. His friends were laughing and smiling and making a mess of his pristine home just like they had been for a decade now. For the time being, the fogginess and emptiness he had been feeling was pushed aside, making room for a cheesy found family coming of age movie cliché amount of contentedness.

With Jooheon proclaiming that Hoseok was a bastard man of ill repute when he lost in their game of Street Fighter, Hyungwon let a smile work its way over his lips. This was his family, had been for years, but this was all he had left now. They had come so he wouldn’t be alone through this. Hell, they had come so _they_ wouldn’t be alone through this. The amount of times Hyungwon had come home from school and found one of them eating snacks at their kitchen counter chatting happily with his parents was incalculable. His parents were family to them too. As much as Hyungwon knew he needed them right now, needed their company and their presence, they needed him just the same. His family, his brothers, were going to be by his side until the end of time. Probably. Hyungwon wasn’t big into dramatics, but the end of time felt like the correct way to phrase it. Looking around at all seven of them sprawled on the floor and the sofa, eating the greasiest pizza and teasing each other, he knew that, somehow, they’d be okay.

Hyungwon was leaning back against Minhyuk who, in turn, was leaning against Hyunwoo when the group forced Changkyun to make the convenience store trip he so graciously promised he’d do.

“I am the youngest, I am a baby,” Changkyun grumbled as he double checked he had his wallet. “I can’t believe you’re forcing me to leave the safety of this house just to fill your stomachs with shitty garbage food. Hyunwoo, I’m taking your car and you can’t stop me.” Hyunwoo didn’t even look up from his phone.

“Y’know, it’s not really a convenience store when you live miles away from it,” Hoseok ruminated after the door had shut behind their youngest friend.

“Of course it’s not, but at least this way your dumbasses can scream at the TV without the neighbors getting concerned,” Hyungwon shot back. “We aren’t that loud,” Jooheon chimed in, Hoseok nodding his agreement.

“Jooheon, I love you, but you made us test this once. Kihyun easily pulled 120 decibels which is, like, equivalent to thunder.” Minhyuk barely looked up from where he had been slowly picking at a loose thread on Hyungwon’s shirt to respond. “Kihyun, I hope to God you don’t look proud right now. That’s not something to be proud of, you’re a menace to society.” Kihyun sputtered out a laugh as he tried to wipe the smile off his face.

Changkyun had come back with more snacks than they thought they needed, but they didn’t need to order more food that evening so no one questioned why he asked Hoseok to come help carry bags in upon his return. Before anyone knew it, night was there with the moon shining brightly through the windows. Hoseok used to envy how this house had the most beautiful view of the night sky, but the way Hyungwon was staring out at the stars made him rethink if a clear view of the sky was worth it anymore. One of them suggested they get some sleep, pulling Hyungwon’s focus away from the sky. Jooheon and Minhyuk followed him to the closet they kept the mats in far at the end of the hallway where the bedrooms were. The others were already bickering about who would sleep where, their voices growing quieter as they moved down the hall.

“Hyungwon,” he turned to look at Minhyuk. “Hyungwon, we are here for you, whatever you need, okay? Please don’t shut us out.” And something in him broke. He knew their friends in the other room had quieted down to hear what was happening, but that didn’t stop him from how hard he was crying.

“No, hey, we didn’t want to make you cry,” Jooheon was quick to grab onto his face to wipe away as many tears as he could. Between hiccupped sobs, Hyungwon managed to get out how sorry he was for not leaning on them and he loved them so much, they were his brothers. Minhyuk planted a sloppy kiss on his forehead that got the crying man to chuckle.

“If we’re going to cry, can we at least go back and cry with the other guys? I have a feeling Hoseok wanted to have a group cry.” And when he looked up, Minhyuk and Jooheon were both crying too. He nodded, letting Jooheon wipe the rest of his tears before reaching in and grabbing the mats for them to carry back.

Coming back into the living room, the trio took in the crying Kihyun whose head was buried into Hoseok’s lap. Changkyun was awkwardly petting his hair as Hyunwoo wiped some of his own tears away. They all laughed at him scrambling to sit upright, clearing his throat as if he wasn’t just sobbing into their friend’s leg. Just as Minhyuk suggested, they cried together for a while before finally feeling too tired to stay awake any longer. Floor mats were rolled out, pillows were fluffed, and blankets were neatly draped over their exhausted bodies. The moon continued to shine high in the sky, reflecting brightly off the white sofa. The snoring was loud and obnoxious, but was much preferred to the silence Hyungwon was used to spending his nights in.

He wished his parents were there to see them, to see their messy sleepover like how they were in high school. Those were easier times, times when deadlines and bills and rent didn’t matter. Times when dead parents weren’t the first and last things on his mind every day. Times when hanging out with his friends didn’t feel like a memorial. God, he still had a memorial to plan. People let him push it off because he was in the hospital, but he knew his time was running out. Everything was about time now, wasn’t it? Good times, bad times, the time it took him to let the grief force him to sleep, the clocks on the walls counting the time from sun up to sun down, the strange way his dad’s watch counted time with an extra crown to change the year. Time. He was sick of time.

One of the clocks on the wall read just past two in the morning. He knew he wasn’t getting any sleep no matter how homey his friends made him feel. Hyungwon was careful not to wake Hyunwoo as he stood, taking note of how Changkyun and Jooheon had wrapped themselves around each other during the night. Bending, he fixed the Minhyuk’s blanket so he wouldn’t wake up cold. This house was drafty, and he knew how cold it could get come morning. Hyungwon found himself filling the sink in the bathroom so he could splash his face. Without the distraction of loud friends and junk food, the numb fogginess crept back in. How could the absence of feeling be so consuming? He didn’t know, he just knew that his plan to simply splash his face turned into him completely submerging his head in the water, some of it spilling out of the sink and onto the floor. Time stopped underwater. Up was down and down was up, but he didn’t need to breathe while he was in there, so he stayed. He fought the urge to open his eyes, seeing images of subways and himself behind his eyelids. But that didn’t make sense. He was holding a gun in one image and wearing a suit in another. He tried to remember if one of the side effects of his medication was hallucinations as he pulled back and toweled off his face.

Hyungwon wandered into his dad’s office, something he hadn’t done in a while. It was always a neat sort of messy in here. The worn-out desk chair was still bigger than him and just as comfortable as he remembered. The books piled on the bookshelves were mostly functional reference guides or company reports save for the odd classic or two. Hyungwon had gifted them to him over the years, but his father wasn’t much of a literature guy. The box he’d been avoiding was on the desk. He didn’t remember putting it there, but he also didn’t remember most of his days, so he didn’t think much of it. His father’s watch was heavy, or at least felt heavy in his hands. Hyungwon had always thought it was odd that the watch needed to tell what year it was. He never questioned it in case his master watchmaker father gave him such an obvious answer he’d feel embarrassed. With nothing to stop him, Hyungwon spun the crown. The numbers turned wildly, each dial moving faster than he could see. And when they stopped moving, Hyungwon was plunged into water.

Come morning, Hoseok knows something is wrong. His friend isn’t asleep with them and he can’t hear him rustling around in the house. He’s quick to wake everyone up in a panic, and though they’re tired since it’s barely past eight they know they need to get up. Hoseok doesn’t panic like this without a good reason. They’re frantic as they search. One of them calls from the bedrooms to say he’s not there. Jooheon and Kihyun are checking Hyungwon’s medication to make sure he hadn’t taken too many or too little. Changkyun sees that the bathtub is full as Hyunwoo and Minhyuk try dialing his phone and the hospital. The office looks like a storm went through it when Changkyun walks in on Hoseok looking over the family pictures. A window is open, curtain blowing with the soft breeze. They don’t want to admit he’s gone, but their faces show that neither of them thinks Hyungwon is there anymore.

Hyungwon can breathe in this water too. He doesn’t know how, only barely feeling a slight panic about being underwater for so long, but his need for air is gone. He tries to look around but the more he moves the quicker images flood his head. He can see his friend. Their hair is different, and he can’t place what city they’re in, but those are his friends. They’re in danger, they’re hurting, they’re…these aren’t the people he knows. Sure, they look exactly like the six men he left on his living room floor, but there’s something different. The similarities are enough to give him pause. This isn’t a memory he’s seeing; the changing hairstyles should be enough proof of that. Hyunwoo and Hoseok are sparring, Minhyuk is in his office, but Jooheon has bleached out hair and he can see himself in a suit again. What is going on? Why can’t he get out? His body feels so heavy and tired, but if his friends were hurting, he needed to be there. He needed to get out. Why can’t he get out? Please, his friends need him.


End file.
